In One Piece
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Kanan wasn't the only Jedi blinded at Malachor. Prompt from SWRRequests.


A/N - Based on a prompt from SWRRequests on Tumblr. The prompt read:

"I have seen plenty of AU prompts regarding Ezra being blinded by Maul instead, or by another thing, or Ezra giving up his sight for Kanan. But how about this: Kanan still gets blinded by Maul and Ezra gets his eyes scorched by the burst of energy from the sith holocron. Two blind jedi can't be good for the rebellion."

Well, I wasn't going to be able to leave that one alone...

* * *

The war was over, and they had won. Sabine still couldn't quite believe it; they had been fighting for so long that it felt like it was all they would ever do. It was strange trying to get used to feeling safe again. It was strange too not to have anything to fight against.

Like many Mandalorians, she just wasn't built for peacetime.

Still, she had to admit that it was good to be able to relax. Really relax, not just have a moment of downtime before the next battle. She glanced over at her two companions. Kanan's eyes were covered by his mask; slightly battle damaged now, but the same one that she had painted for him all those years ago on Atollon. Ezra didn't cover his eyes. She still wasn't sure exactly what had happened to him, he didn't like to talk about it, but the energy burst that had damaged his eyes had left him enough vision to differentiate light from dark. On good days, he could make out shapes. Or so he claimed, anyway. He liked to take advantage of that.

She wasn't sure which would be worse; to lose your sight completely, or to be left with that constant reminder of what you no longer had.

She wondered whether it was something that had ever spoken about. Probably not. Getting into a 'who has it worse' competition wasn't either of their styles.

Well, maybe back when it had happened; things had been very different then.

It didn't matter, anyway. Not any more. What was done was done, and nothing could change it. They had both moved on, adapted, they were both okay. It was Sabine, who hadn't even been there, who found herself constantly dwelling in those moments.

Her hand stilled, pencil hovering above the page of her sketch pad. The rough outline of Kanan on the page held enough detail for her to finish later, even if he moved. When Hera and Zeb finally emerged from the Ghost with the picnic, she would be able to show it to somebody who could actually appreciate it, because as good as Kanan and Ezra were at feigning interest in her art, she knew they couldn't really appreciate it, not any more.

"Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you guys had gotten back from Malachor in one piece?" she asked, voicing the thought in her head without having really intended to.

Ezra turned in her direction. He didn't open his eyes, but he did raise an eyebrow. "Two pieces," he corrected. "We're not the same person you know, we just happen to be pretty similar."

Sabine sighed. "Yeah, yeah. You know I didn't even slightly mean that."

The three of them were sitting on the grass, basking in the sunshine on some planet whose name she had already forgotten. The ground was hard and dry, but the grass was soft, and the sun was just warm enough to be pleasant. The Ghost was parked unobtrusively nearby.

Ezra shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He grinned at his own not funny joke. "I _was_ in one piece though. I mean, one slightly damaged piece, but still." He shrugged, and the grin widened. "Kanan too, unless you guys forgot to tell me something."

"You're not funny." She grinned back, despite herself. There had been a time when she had thought she would never see him smile again. Either of them, actually. There had been a time when she had thought she was going to lose them completely. "You know what I mean," she insisted. "Do you ever wonder if things would have turned out differently?"

"No," Kanan told her. He was sitting a little further away, in a narrow slice of shade cast by a single tree. Sabine's hand began to sketch again, as he spoke. "What would be the point? We won. If things had been different then, they might have been different now. One little change could have had far-reaching consequences, and nobody would want that."

"Different doesn't mean worse, you know," Sabine told him. "Who knows, we might have won sooner."

Ezra shook his head. "Great, thanks for that, Sabine. You really know how to make a guy feel good. If I'd been more careful that one mission, the war would've been over years ago."

Sabine rolled her eyes. She pulled up a fistful of grass and threw it in Ezra's direction. It drifted down like snowflakes around him. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it away.

"Actually, thanks. It was a pretty good compliment. I didn't know you thought I was that important."

He was probably right. Or Kanan was, and a change then would have meant a vastly different — and possibly worse — outcome today. "You don't miss it then? Seeing, I mean. You don't wish…" She tailed off, unable to finish.

"I miss it," Ezra told her, after a long pause. There was a wistful quality to his tone, and she wondered what sight he was remembering. She glanced over at Kanan, but the expression on his face was unreadable under his mask. He missed it too; how could he not?

"I think I'd risk it," she said. "Even if we didn't know what would have happened, I think it'd be worth finding out."

Two sets of unseeing eyes turned in her direction, one painted on a mask, one closed against the glare of the sun. "What do you mean?" Kanan asked her.

Sabine shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "I just mean, if I could change what happened, I would. Whatever it meant, I think the trade'd be worth it. Don't you?"

"No," Kanan said, simply.

Ezra shrugged. "Yeah, sorry Sabine. I'm with Kanan on this one. I'm not saying I'd turn down a miracle cure if one showed up. I'd chase that to the other end of the galaxy and back. But changing the past? No. I'm pretty happy with how things turned out."

She sighed, and added the finishing touches to her sketch. It was good that they were both okay, but she couldn't help but remember the moment they had walked out of the Phantom together, Ezra holding on to Chopper and apparently trying to keep Kanan upright, a hastily applied bandage tied around the ruin of Kanan's eyes, as they stumbled out onto the base.

She hadn't realized at first that Ezra couldn't see either. She didn't think that anybody did. Kanan had been obvious, but she had taken Ezra's hand on Chopper's antenna to be for support, not guidance. She had taken the hesitancy in his steps for care as he helped Kanan. He had looked okay, his eyes the same vibrant shade of blue they had been when they had departed for that hell-planet. The truth had dawned on her slowly, she had noticed how he didn't look at them, how he didn't look at _anything_ ; how his eyes darted around him as though desperately searching for something to see.

He had just looked so _lost_ , so small and so afraid. For the rest of her life, that memory would remain fresh in her mind.

A not-quite laugh from Ezra's direction pulled her out of the memory. "Hey, Kanan," he said. "Remember when you figured out I couldn't see either?"

Sabine turned to look at her two Jedi, half fascinated, half horrified. She had never considered that before.

Kanan smiled, but it was tight and strained. "Sorry," he said.

"It's fine, you were in a lot of pain, you barely even noticed we'd left the planet. I couldn't really have expected you to notice that." He turned to face Sabine. "He kept asking me how bad it looked."

"And you kept dodging the question," Kanan added.

"Hey, I was freaking out. The last thing I wanted to do was say it out loud. That makes things real, you know."

Ezra was still smiling. Sabine didn't understand how that was possible.

"Remember when _Hera_ worked out what had happened?" Kanan asked.

"Oh, yeah." Ezra laughed again. "Poor Hera. Honestly, if there was one thing I wish I could have seen in the past few years, it's the look on her face right then. Can you imagine it?"

Kanan nodded. "I don't think it would have been very funny, though," he said.

"Well, not at the time. Now though. Even she laughs about it now."

"I don't think that's laughter," Kanan told him.

"Well, maybe not _technically_ , but…"

Sabine sighed loudly. She turned a page in her book and began to work on a sketch of Kanan and Ezra at each other's throats while she and the rest of the crew watched and placed bets. If she did a larger painted version, it would look great on Kanan's wall. Or maybe Ezra's, that way at least Zeb would be able to enjoy it.

"You guys are ridiculous, you know that, right?" she asked them. She couldn't shake the feeling that Ezra had started the whole thing just to change the subject. It didn't matter, they were still ridiculous. Once, as a kid, she had been taught that the Jedi were dignified warriors. They were considered to be the enemy, but one held in a grudging esteem. The reality was very different. That wasn't a bad thing, far from it. It was still ridiculous.

"Thanks," Ezra told her. He turned back to the sun and sighed contentedly. "We try our best."


End file.
